


Deep Dark Hills

by cjmarlowe



Category: Justified
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, handjobs, secret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 22:53:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1165551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjmarlowe/pseuds/cjmarlowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Working in the mine is mostly shit. Boyd Crowder is just about the only part that's not, and sometimes that's by a slimmer margin than Raylan likes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deep Dark Hills

Raylan tells himself it's better than working for his daddy, which as far as he's concerned isn't working at all. There aren't a lot of options for a boy like him in Harlan County. That's why he's going to get out, it's why he's _got_ to get out. But not yet, he's not there yet. He can afford a ticket out of town, but nothing to live on till he finds his feet, and that's just not enough.

He might be desperate to find a new life somewhere, but he's also learned patience. And the truth is it's harder to leave behind everything you know than you think it is, even when everything you know is mostly shit.

Working in the mine is mostly shit. Boyd Crowder is just about the only part that's not, and sometimes that's by a slimmer margin than Raylan likes.

"Give me some of that," he says, taking the mason jar right out of Boyd's hand and getting a sip of moonshine that burns on the way down, the way he wants it to. It's not enough to numb him to it all, but it still takes the edge off.

"All you had to do was ask," says Boyd, taking it back again much more calmly and just holding it, contemplating the liquid like it holds answers to the mysteries of the universe. Maybe it does. Maybe that's why they're both out here trying to get it to give up some answers to them, moonshine in the moonlight.

"Is this all we're going to do all night?" he says. "Lie here on the grass and drink up your daddy's moonshine? Which he is going to whip you for if he notices it's missing, you know he is."

"Bowman's the one who stole it, I just stole it from him," says Boyd. 

"Already a criminal mastermind," says Raylan. "And you just took the one?"

"Bowman's an idiot, but he's not that stupid. One at a time's all you can get away with. Daddy might believe he finished one off when he wasn't thinking about it, but two's a stretch, and any more than that's a hanging offence."

Raylan wishes he believed that was just an expression, but the visual of Boyd hanging from a tree and Bo being the one to string him up is all too vivid. Especially if he knew the thing that neither of them were ever going to let him know, that had nothing at all to do with a stolen jar of moonshine.

"How much time we got?"

"Enough," says Boyd.

"You don't even know why I was asking."

"You think I don't know why you're asking?" says Boyd. "The same reason you always ask when we're alone and outside you're thinking about leaving Harlan."

"I never said I'm thinking about leaving Harlan."

"You hardly have to," says Boyd. "Even if no one else has figured that out yet, I most certainly have. You've been trying to figure out a way out of here since it first occurred to you that there was a big bad old world out there beyond the county line."

"Now that's just plain—"

"Truth," says Boyd. "It's just plain truth. Just like the plain truth is, one of the reasons you haven't done it yet is you want to keep fucking me."

He says fucking like that's all it is, like Boyd is just a convenient hole when another plain truth is that there's nothing _convenient_ about what they are to one another. Convenient would have been falling for one of Evarts High's cheerleaders. Convenient would have been taking Hank's ex-wife up on her offer when she was clearly looking for a young man to make her feel beautiful again. Boyd Crowder is not _convenient_ , and Raylan never would've gotten himself tangled up in all of it just for a fuck.

But for all that he's said it like it's nothing, he knows Boyd doesn't mean that. As much as Boyd isn't convenient for Raylan, Raylan is even more inconvenient for Boyd. Raylan's daddy doesn't give much of a shit about him or what he does. Boyd's daddy cares too much.

"I do want to keep fucking you," he says, and knocks his knee against Boyd's and wills him to seal up that jar of moonshine again and do something else with his hands. Moonshine takes the edge off, but Boyd's hands take it off more. Raylan really is going to miss it when he leaves.

But that doesn't mean he isn't going to leave, one of these days. Boyd makes it harder, but the only thing making it impossible right now is money, and Raylan's well on his way to taking care of that particular problem.

"All right, c'mere then," says Boyd, but he's the one to roll over onto his side, grab a handful of Raylan's grubby, stained t-shirt for a band he doesn't even like and yank him closer.

They don't kiss much. Raylan always wished they kissed more, but it feels strange and intimate and even though they are an intimate _thing_ there's some stuff that just feels like it goes beyond the boundaries somehow. That it's okay to be the way they are, but not to express it by being all affectionate with one another. But they kiss tonight, deeper and harder than Raylan remembers them kissing before, and right in the middle it occurs to him just how much he wishes it was okay for them to be this all the time.

But that's just not how things are.

By the time they stop, Boyd's got a hand in Raylan's pants and Raylan's well on his way to doing the same. They'll fuck for real sometimes, when they've got a place to be, take all their clothes off and go at it, but not when they're outside like this. Not when they might have to pretend they're just hanging out drinking stolen moonshine at any moment when they hear the sound of a truck engine or the flash of headlights coming up the road or even a suspicious twig cracking in the woods.

It's too bad really. Raylan has long since figured out he has a kink for fucking outdoors.

"Sure as hell hope you brought some tissues."

"Use your sock," says Boyd, as if that's not the unsexiest thing ever, but then he goes and kisses Raylan again and Raylan forgets he ever had any objections to anything that ever came out of Boyd Crowder's mouth. Or went into it.

"I can't reach my damn sock," Raylan mutters, after, because it's on his _foot_ and as long as they're touching each other's cocks like this he's not exactly going to bend down at get it. But he'll make do.

"You need to start thinking ahead," says Boyd. He kisses Raylan again and it feels almost tender. Raylan gets this warm feeling in his gut, a strange and new feeling, and he isn't even thinking about getting off as much as he's thinking about getting off _with Boyd_. It's never been convenient, but before now he would've called it more of a need than a desire.

"Could we..." Raylan starts, but he knows the answer before he finishes the question and bites it back because it's better not to have asked than to be told no. They could maybe take their shirts off out here, because it's a warm night, but anything else is too risky. Boyd's not going to suck his cock.

But Raylan does roll closer and tug faster and he gets the most amazing guttural moan out of Boyd that makes his own cock throb with want. His jeans are still on, too loose at the hips but he got them cheap, and he undoes the fly so Boyd can get his hand deeper. He's not sure what he wants, maybe a tighter grip, maybe some more friction, but Boyd reaches down and cups his balls for a moment and Raylan never knew he wanted that till Boyd did it, moving his rough hand over the soft skin there.

"Oh Christ," he says and Boyd kisses them both silent and while he's doing it he comes in Raylan's hand, spilling into his underwear like he just doesn't give a damn. He should, but it's hard for Raylan to give a damn either right now. When Boyd grabs his cock again it's about five seconds from game over, and all Raylan has time to do is ruck up his shirt so it at least doesn't get all over that.

"I don't want you to go," says Boyd, so soft that for a moment Raylan thought he was imagining it.

"I'm not going anywhere," he says.

It's the truth, for right now anyway. Tomorrow morning, and the day after that, and the day after that, he'll still be going down in the mine with Boyd, and they'll have this to make that a little easier to swallow. What happens later, they'll deal with that then.

Raylan wipes his hand on the grass and zips up again and smooths his shirt down so it looks like they've been doing nothing here but shooting the shit after the sun went down. He grabs that bottle of moonshine again, opens it back up, and for a little while he can dream about the now and not the later.

Harlan's shit but Boyd's not at all, not really. And maybe, just maybe, they'll get out together.


End file.
